


Jack of Spades

by Jrade, PumpkinFullOfKnives



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, Crime Scenes, F/M, Jesse McCree Private Investigator, no omnic crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-03-31 23:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jrade/pseuds/Jrade, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinFullOfKnives/pseuds/PumpkinFullOfKnives
Summary: It's a big city, and small crimes have a way of slipping through the cracks. Especially when people don't want to dig too deep.Jesse McCree learned the hard way that the truth can hurt, but he's got a job to do nonetheless.





	1. The Case

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I pitched the idea I had of an overwatch noir fic to one of my favorite authors on this site: Jrade, author of goddamn masterpieces like Streets of an Orphaned World and Both Sides Now (currently the largest overwatch fic out there, bar none, and one of the best, too). To my surprise, Jrade wanted to not just advise me, but was interested in helping as a co-author. The two of us have finished the first chapter, and are working on the next several. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> -PumpkinFullOfKnives

I dreamt of the confrontation. Commissioner Morrison was the hope of the city, back in those days. Then again, he had been for a while, and the hope was getting old and sour. As was the commissioner, really, though he put a brave face on it.

Jack Morrison was at the docks, gun drawn, aiming at Gabriel Reyes. Gabriel was the deputy commissioner; Jack’s dearest friend, my mentor, and as it turned out, about as crooked as a cop could get. Jack had got the drop on Gabe, whose hands were in the air, an almost bored look on his face. His expression seemed to say “shoot me, arrest me, whatever, but get on with it.” A pump-action shotgun lay at his feet.

I don’t know what happened, not exactly. I wasn't there when it happened, not quite, but I sure was close enough to hear the gunshots. The confrontation turned into a shootout, and their bodies wound up in the bay. That’s history, now. I could tell you what I saw in the dream, how it unfolded, the words they said, how they died. But that doesn’t matter.

They’re dead, the case is closed, and I ain’t even a cop anymore. 

-

I was asleep at my desk when she walked in. She hadn’t knocked, apparently, just let herself right on in. So when I woke to see her sitting across from me, fidgeting with a thick wad of cash in her prosthetic hand, I was just a little bit startled.

Still half asleep, I did my best to sit up straight and look presentable. I adjusted my hat - had slept with it on - and attempted not to express my surprise at someone just walking in here with a stack of cash. I won’t lie and say that wasn’t what I noticed first. It was quite obviously a lot of money, and frankly, I’d been broke or near-broke for most of my life.

When I looked at her, though, that was a sight. She was thin, with long black hair and amber eyes. The woman’s prosthetic looked to be a high-end one, probably connected to the nerves of her upper arm to control it. Her skin was darker than that of most folks round these parts - I thought she might be of indian descent, but I wasn’t sure whether american indian or if she was from, well, actual India. Either way, she was beautiful.

I coughed to clear my throat, and she must have thought it was some kind of comment on her because the look she shot me wasn’t any kind of nicety. Sharp, intense, inspecting. Amber eyes, almost golden I might’ve said. The colour of bourbon over the rocks.

Don’t see that every day.

“Greetings.” Her voice was warm, and quiet but firm. Strong - or maybe stern would’ve been a better word. “You are Jesse McCree, former police officer turned private detective, and you will aid me in deciphering a very particular puzzle.”

If I hadn’t been so surprised, I might’ve frowned. She hadn’t actually said the words “disgrace” or “washed-up” or any of the others that had been slung my way. From her tone it sure sounded like them though.

“Yes Ma’am, Jesse McCree,” I flashed her a little smile and tipped a finger at the brim of my hat, “private investigator, at your service. No job too big, no case too small.” I forced myself to not look at the money, and to focus on her face, instead. Her eyes.

It wasn’t hard. She stared right back - some people looked away on instinct when you met their eyes, either because they felt awkward or they didn’t want you to know they’d been looking in the first place, or for whatever reason. Apparently this dame, whoever she was, didn’t sign on for any of that.

She just looked right back, eyes locked on mine. She hardly even blinked. Almost had me wanting to glance away, but I never was one to back down.

Got me in troubles, truth be told.

Either she hadn’t spoken, or I’d missed it. I let the silence hang for another few seconds but nothing happened. She didn’t speak or shift or look any different, just met my eyes and held ‘em.

“Might I inquire as to the nature of your, uh…” I waved with one hand, a prompt for her to elaborate on.

She blinked then, for what may have been the first time since I woke to see her sitting there.

“Yes, of course,” she said after a second or two. “First - may I have your cell phone?”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I just said “Uh, no.”

“It is necessary. I will explain afterward. I will unplug your… landline myself.” 

“Hold on a moment!” I said, standing. “Can you explain why in the blazes you need my cell phone?” 

She put the stack of cash down on the table. “Do you see this money, Jesse McCree? Most people value such things, especially when they are lacking in it. I do not know you, nor do I know how much you value this quantity of money, compared to your phone. However, I assure you that I will pay you more than enough for you to acquire a new phone, after my precautions are complete, and far more once the investigation is concluded.”

It was an awful lot of money. But then -

“Wait, I’m gonna need to buy a new phone? What are you planning to do to it?”

“Remove the battery, or if it is a model where that is not possible, break it.”

I gaped at her. What is this lady’s problem?

“My time is not unlimited. Your phone, please.”

Grumbling, I tossed her my cell. It was an old phone, but one of the ones where the battery was built in.

She caught the phone out of the air with her prosthetic arm, and a blue light shimmered in her hand, from the palm. My phone made a crackling noise, and a small puff of smoke leaked from its insides. She then walked over and unplugged the landline, with a look on her face that implied she had no idea people even still used landlines.

I felt my jaw tense up a little as my lips tightened, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let myself scowl at a client.

Not before they’d paid me, at least.

I did my utmost to keep something at least resembling a smile on my face. “Now, why was it necessary to zap my phone? And how did you do that, exactly?”

“It is possible people could have been listening in on our conversation with your phones. That would be counterproductive, as I would prefer my investigation remain between us. As for how, my prosthetic has a number of functions beyond merely handing you significant sums of money.”

I blinked. “My cell phone was off. And how is someone supposed to listen in on it anyway?”

The woman - I didn’t think of her as lady then, as I was a bit irritated with her - let out a light chuckle.

“Passive government surveillance on devices such as cell phones has been ongoing for decades. It last fell out of the news years ago, but it has continued. And I do not know who else might be able to listen in, but I prefer to err on the side of caution.”

This was news to me. “Seriously? I was a cop, for years, miss, and this is the first I’ve heard about it.”

“Then I suppose it was above your pay grade.”

I almost frowned at that. Listening in on folks through their phones? Don’t the feds have anything better to do?

“Speaking of pay, how does two thousand dollars sound as compensation for your phone, up front?”

That stopped my almost-frowning immediately. Smiling a genuine smile, I replied, “That sounds lovely, miss.”

I leaned forward in my chair a little and pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil. Sometimes it paid to use methods that were a little more old-fashioned. A little more secure. “So, are you ready to tell me what you need looked into? Hope you don’t mind if I take notes?”

She hesitated for a second before shaking her head. “It would be best for information not to be lost. If you cannot remember, then notes are acceptable, but you must ensure their safety.”

Oh, must I? I only smiled, outwardly. Couldn’t give away my sarcastic thoughts - that got me into enough trouble already. I picked up the pencil as she glanced around the room slightly nervously, taking her seat again and resting her clasped hands in her lap.

Couldn’t help but notice that parallel. If you could call it that. My prosthetic arm fit in perfectly with the office and its furniture: cheap, old, but functional. Hers probably would have paid for my apartment for a year.

Or ten.

“I work for a notable development corporation in the area,” she nodded. “I believe elements within the corporation may be involved in… unsavoury dealings.” When she spoke, her eyes were fixed on mine. Whenever she wasn’t speaking, though, she was looking around.

“No bugs in here, ma’am,” I assured her. “Not since you unplugged my landline and fried my phone, anyway, if the feds really are using them to listen.” Her eyes narrowed a bit.

“One can never be too careful.” She took a breath and held it, looking thoughtful. Maybe nervous. Eventually whatever worry she had caved, and she sighed. “Very well. My name… is Satya Vaswani. I work for the Vishkar Corporation. I have no doubt that you’ve heard of me, and of us.”

I didn’t comment on that. It didn’t matter that I had, of course, heard of Vishkar. Everybody had. It didn’t matter that, now that she mentioned it, her face did look a little familiar like I might’ve seen it on a magazine.

Truth be told, it only made it a little more frustrating. The fact that she was right. I got that sense, though - that sense when the world’s irony sets its sights on you and decides you’re gonna be a plaything for a little while. That sense that she was going to be right a whole lot more, and I would need to deal with it.

I did what I always did when things took a turn for the frustrating and possibly hopeless. I pulled a cigar out of my pocket and lit it.

Maybe the way her nose wrinkled in distaste made me smile a little. Maybe.

“I believe,” she continued in that same voice. Dark and smooth but precise, firm. I could tell she wasn’t a dame who beat around the bush, but she probably wasn’t one to sling mud without warrant, either. “That there are elements within the corporation engaging in unsavoury actions.”

I didn’t have much to note down. Vishkar. Satya Vaswani (sp?). Bad guys in comp. “What kind of unsavoury actions, huh?”

“Arson.” Her response was immediate, and firm, and drew my eyes instantly up from the paper to lock on hers again.

It was a tense moment, but I was used to those. Some might’ve said I thrived in them. “Seems to me like the sort of thing the fire department would be more interested in. Or the police.”

“Protecting corporate image is important,” she replied easily. Her voice was a little clipped, though. Sounded irate. I had a talent for that, too. “I have been led to believe you can be trusted to keep an investigation and a situation… under wraps, so to speak.”

“That’s the McCree Specialty, ma’am,” I tipped my hat with a grin. That, and anything else that paid the bills. The real McCree specialty was convincing my landlord to give me one more extension on rent before kicking my sorry ass to the curb.

She didn’t respond to that. Not exactly. Just hummed and tipped her head a little and I jotted down “Arson?” on the paper.

“So you’re hoping to get to the bottom of this without throwing up too many flags,” I suggested with a bit of a sigh. Couldn’t say I blamed her there. She was smart to try to avoid notice with this, because there were only two options: either the company knew what was going on, or they didn’t.

If they didn’t, she could run awry of some awful bad people if she raised up her head too high. If they did know, that would only be worse.

Only occurred to me then that I wasn’t even thinking about the fact that she might be mistaken. Seemed to me like the kind of woman who didn’t step up with something unless it was set in stone.

“Precisely,” she nodded. “As little notice as possible.”

I couldn’t help but wonder whose notice, exactly, she was most worried about. Whether it was her bosses, or somebody more sinister than that. Distantly, I realized that it could also have been the police - that she could be trying to track down any evidence in order to get rid of it.

If that was the case, though, she’d soon regret hiring me.

“Well,” I sighed a little, readjusting in my chair and tapping some ash into the tray. “Missus Vaswani-”

She interrupted me. “Miss.”

I forced a smile. “Miss Vaswani. Any other information you have? Suspects, perhaps, or-”

Again, she interrupted me. “If I knew who was responsible, Mr. McCree, I would not be employing you to decipher that information.”

I refused to sigh. Desperately wanted to, though. “No offence meant, Miss Vaswani, but you’ve clearly got your suspicions already. Would be deeply indebted if you wouldn’t mind sharing ‘em with me.”

Her eyes narrowed. Whether it was more scrutiny, or judgement, I couldn’t say. “Do you not think that would bias your own findings, Mr. McCree?”

Frustratingly, she might have had a point, but more frustratingly than that she still hadn’t actually told me anything. “You’ve said you think your employer is involv-”

“No,” she interrupted swiftly, metal hand shining in the dim lights of my office. The same light glinted dangerously off of her eyes. “I stated that I believed elements within the organization might have culpability in the affair. Not the organization itself.”

I took a deep drag from my cigar. I couldn’t say that she minced words. She seemed to measure them like a surgeon. Or somebody else I wouldn’t get along with. “Fair enough,” I grunted with a nod. “But, as you said, I shouldn’t let my own thoughts be biased by yours.”

She didn’t like that, I could tell immediately, so I carried on swiftly to a different line of investigation. “Would help immensely if I had a site to investigate, at least. If you don’t want to provide me with names of suspects, or with whatever method brought you this information in the first place…?”

My words trailed off questioningly. I raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t even need to shake her head - I already knew her answer was no. However she’d found out, she wasn’t raring to tell me any time soon.

“The address is on the other side of town,” she nodded curtly, reaching out and taking the notepad out of my hand. The pen, too.

I was so surprised by it that I let her.

When she handed it back, I wasn’t surprised in the slightest by her tiny, perfect handwriting. “It is an abandoned warehouse,” she explained further.

“Peculiar target,” I muttered. My eyebrows drew tighter as I frowned down to the paper. I didn’t know the address off by heart, or anything like that, but I had a passing familiarity with that area of town. Industrial. Not exactly the safest.

Good place to hide just about anything you didn’t want found.

It was bad habit, technically speaking, to start forming ideas before you knew the case. It was also intuition. Bad habits saved lives, sometimes.

I didn’t have a lot of information on the case, but I mulled over what I had. Abandoned warehouse, supposedly, burned down by some person or persons unknown within an architectural firm that was pretty well-known overall. Could mean lots of things.

Could have been them trying to open something up, could’ve been them trying to cover their asses. Could’ve been that they got a little too happy and had a few too many beers, burned it down on accident. Satya definitely didn’t seem like the partying sort, though, so it stood to question whether her coworkers would be.

It all could’ve meant nothing at all. Only way to know was to go find out more. At least I had an address now.

“Any other uh, pertinent details, ma’am?” I raised an eyebrow, glancing up from the notepad to meet her eyes across the desk.

She hesitated, for just an instant, before shaking her head. “None for the moment, Mr. McCree.” She set the almost cartoonishly impressive wad of cash on the desk without a look, without a second thought. As if it meant nothing to her. “This should suffice to replace your phone, as well as provide for any other early expenditures in the venture. More payment will be provided upon developments, of course.”

“Of course.” I agreed softly. I didn’t let my eyes dwell on the money. Not for too long.

Just a second or two. Six, tops.

When I looked back to her, she was standing, but evidently wasn’t quite finished yet. A concerned frown crossed her lips as she met my eyes. “Mr. McCree?”

“Yes, Miss Vaswani?” I couldn’t tell if I sounded genuine, or mocking, or bootlicking. As long as she didn’t get pissed and take her money away, I didn’t really care, though.

“I would suggest one with a removable battery.”

I blinked, twice. “Remov-?” I cut myself off with a single laugh, nodding my head. “Right. Phone.”

“Precisely,” she nodded, standing from her chair. “I will meet you again to gather any data you have collected.”

“Hold it, wait,” I held out a hand as she stepped toward the door, and she flicked those piercing eyes back over her shoulder to lock onto mine.

“I just thought,” I shrugged slightly, “that we’d be going and investigating this together. Given your knowledge of the case, and all.”

She let out a laugh. Not a bad laugh, actually - little patronizing, maybe, but I didn’t really mind that overly. Maybe just ‘cause I’d heard too many laughs that were followed by a swift fist, and at least this one wasn’t. Maybe because I just didn’t know better.

“I am not an investigator, Mr. McCree - that is, in fact, why I hired you.” She stepped to the door and opened it. Her head tipped to the side. “Have a good evening, Mr. McCree.”

“Have a good evening, Miss Vaswani,” I responded as respectfully as I could manage (which was real respectful, let me tell you) and just like that, the most frustrating dame I’d ever met was gone.

At least, for now.

The frustrating ones always have their ways of turning up again.


	2. The Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse heads out to the crime scene to investigate, and bumps into an old friend from the force: Lena Oxton. A bit of conversation, and a bit of investigation, both shed some light on matters - but there are plenty of questions raised as well. What exactly was this building being used for, by whom, and who destroyed it? And of course, and perhaps most importantly, _why?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, folks! I know it's been a little while since the last one, but schedules are crazy and all - sorry about that, but here it is!
> 
> ~Jrade

In old detective books I’ve read, they always said that the city was like a woman. It didn’t matter where the detective was, the city always gets compared to a lady. Now, I don’t know what those writers knew, or thought they knew. But I’m damned sure that they’d never been to Chicago. This city ain’t no damn lady, or if it was, it was the stubbornest, most baffling, bitchiest lady I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting. In other words, not much of a lady at all.

 

Well, maybe the second most stubborn and baffling, now that I’d met Satya Vaswani. Calling her bitchy would be rude, and I made a point to be polite to ladies, especially ones that paid well. And  _ damn _ , did she pay well.

 

After she’d left, I counted up the cash, and locked it away in my desk drawer. Then, I had some leads to chase.

 

This whole thing was weird. An abandoned warehouse on the edge of town, burned down by someone in Vishkar? I mean, maybe they wanted to develop there, but couldn’t they have just bought the lot and knocked the place down? And then there was Satya’s cageyness on how she knew about this whole thing - I did mean to get a straight answer out of her at some point, but that wasn’t the priority right now. I needed to investigate the scene of the crime.

 

I grabbed my keys, put on my jacket, and walked out of the office, locking the door on the way out. I’d gotten sloppy, recently, sleeping in the office with the door unlocked. It may have landed me Satya’s arson case, but it was a bad habit nonetheless.

 

Once I was outside the building, I pulled out another cigar and lit it, taking a few puffs. Tasted like shit, but it’s not like I could afford any better cigars, and a habit was a habit. I went and found my car - and old model, some piece of junk Ford. The model was one with  _ wheels _ if you want an idea of how old it was. 

 

I was gonna pull up google maps on my cell phone, but then I remembered what had happened to it. Eh, I knew this city well enough. I shouldn’t get lost.

  
  


-

  
  


I didn’t get that badly lost. Just a bit. It’s a big city, what can I say? 

 

When I was finally in sight of the ex-warehouse, it wasn’t hard to recognize. Not because I’d been there before, but because it was very obviously burnt to a crisp. I could tell before I even parked that yeah, this was a legit arson case. Looked like someone mighta set off one hell of a bomb and torched the rest.

 

I parked the car and started walking to the scene. It didn’t look like there was much left that  _ wasn’t _ burnt in the lot. Anyhow, wandering over there, I took in the scene. It looked like gas had been used to light the place up.

 

But who the hell would blow up and then burn down a warehouse that was already abandoned? It didn’t make a lick of sense for Vishkar to do that, when they had loads of ways they could have gotten this lot legally. 

 

I was really wishing right about then that I’d asked Miss Vaswani more questions about what the hell was going on here. It was pretty clear she knew some things I didn’t, and I mean about the case, not just in general.

 

I’d not even heard about this fire here before I took the case, which was odd. I usually heard about this sort of thing in the news. You’d think it would have at least got mentioned on the local news, or something. When did this fire even happen? It looked recent enough, but I wasn’t sure how recent.

 

Then I heard a car pull in behind me, and fast. I turned around, hand reflexively going for my gun, to see a familiar face parking her police cruiser. 

 

I took my hand away from my gun, hopefully without her noticing it had been there. It had been too damn long since I’d seen Lena Oxton.

 

Her look of suspicion and shock was quickly replaced by a smile. “Jesse! What’re you doing here?”

 

Much as I liked her, I couldn’t tell her the truth. Not the whole truth at least. “Was out for a drive, saw the place, wondered what had happened. Didn’t hear about it in the news or nothin’ like that.”

 

I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t quite buying it. Flat little smirky smile and twinkling eyes - couldn’t help but grin back. “Oh sure,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. “Just out for a drive. Just  _ completely _ random, eh?”

 

I chuckled and shrugged. “What can I say? Sometimes a man’s just gotta get out for the evening.”

 

“Mmmhmm.” She levelled a look of clear disbelief at me. “Well, as long as you’re so  _ randomly _ in the area, erm…” her eyes dropped away and she cleared her throat, scuffed a shoe nervously on the pavement. Easy signs to read even if I hadn’t known her back during my days on the police force.

 

“Need a hand investigatin’?” I suggested with a grin.

 

She scoffed. “Well,  _ need’s _ an awful strong word, but I mean, I wouldn’t say no.”

 

I could tell she was relieved by the offer. She was a good kid, she really was.

 

When we’d met, she was a new recruit and I was, well, still employed as a cop. Couple of men were still alive, at least one building was standing back then that isn’t anymore - world was a bit of a different place now, was the long and short of it.

 

She didn’t seem that different, though.

 

Always had been bright, Lena Oxton - in the sense of her mind and also everything else. Clever, but sometimes a little too jumpy to let it come out right. Had a tendency to jump in feet-first and end up wet for it.

 

Probably a reason that a glance at her shoulders showed she hadn’t exactly rocketed up through the ranks. A damn shame, that. 

 

“So, what sort of case brings you out here? Got any leads?” I knew she probably wasn’t allowed to go and tell me what was going on in the police investigation, but it was worth a shot.

 

Lena looked at me like I was an idiot, but she answered. “What sort of case does it l _ ook _ like? Someone blew this place up, and burned down whatever was left. Not the bloody foggiest  _ who _ . Or why. It’s abandoned, so nobody seems to care that it’s gone. Odd target if you ask me.” She muttered below her breath something that sounded an awful lot like, “Not that anybody asks me.”

 

Lena almost frowned, then. Or at least, for an instant, a flicker of what might have been frustration flashed across her face. I probably only noticed it ‘cause I’d known her so long. But then she smiled, and it looked as natural as the sun in the sky. My gut told me it wasn’t.

 

I knew better than to pry, or should have. Me being me, I went ahead and pried anyway. “So why’d the force go and send you over here to investigate if no one gives a shit?”

 

She laughed, and as she spoke she still was smiling, but I could tell by her eyes - Lena Oxton was  _ pissed off _ . The look didn’t suit her - I don’t think I’d ever seen her like that, and I really hoped it wasn’t me that she was angry with.

 

“That’s the weird thing - they  _ didn’t _ .” She let out another laugh, but it sure wasn’t a happy one. “It happened, burned down, poof - they gave the place a look-see and said ‘wow that sure isn’t a building anymore’ and more or less gave up investigating immediately. I mean, I know there’s a lot of crime in this city, and no-one’s gonna miss this place, but we’re the bloody  _ cops.  _ We should at least  _ try  _ to solve this sort of thing.”

 

I didn’t say it, but that sounded fishy as hell to me. By what Lena said, it certainly sounded like someone wanted the cops to look the other way. Someone with influence enough to get even Commissioner Wilhelm to back off - nah, that was absurd. Ol’ Reinhardt would punch and arrest anyone who tried to corrupt or bribe him, and everybody damn well knew it. They’d have to trick him or work around him. 

 

‘They’ being Vishkar, or someone in it, according to Satya. Though, looking over it, it didn’t look like something a company - certainly not one with Vishkar’s orderly reputation - planned out. So far it looked more like someone with too much spare time, and way too many explosives, made the building go kaboom for kicks, not like it was some part of a corporate plot. 

 

Of course, I’d been wrong before. I’d trusted Gabriel Reyes, for one.

 

Lena must have gotten tired of my silently pondering the facts of the case, cause she cleared her throat to get my attention.

 

“Hey, Jesse? I’m gonna go look over the crime scene now. You helping?”

 

I flashed her an easy grin. The grin that got me out of a million disputes and troubles, and probably got me  _ into _ a million and one. “Well, if you’re  _ askin’...” _

 

“Oh, now  _ I’m _ the one asking,” she rolled her eyes, but had enough of a smirk on her lips that I didn’t feel bad for the ribbing. She gestured me on toward the site with a hand, pulling her flashlight from her belt; thick and metal, five times as large as it needed to be, but some things didn’t change in a hurry. The cruisers hovered but cops still carried huge flashlights. Some folk figured everything a cop carried needed to double as a weapon, I think. Flashlight was no exception to that rule.

 

Bright, though. It lit up the scene like something out of a movie, a lighthouse lamp shining out to sea. It looked surreal, everything shining in the sudden harsh white light. Charred bits of debris glinted and glistened in the glare.

 

“Doesn’t look like it burned right from the start,” I suggested. A piece of charcoal crunched between my boot and the pavement, but other than that, it was deathly silent. Thing is, everything leaves after a fire - rats, owls, pigeons and hobos, they all find somewhere else to be. City’s normally a place of noise, but after an accident when all the sirens clear off, there’s an eerie calm to it.

 

Felt a little better to be saying things. Gave us something to hear, at least.

 

“Could say that again,” Lena snorted softly. Her flashlight roved the scene, followed by her eyes - sharp eyes, focused. For now. She got distracted sometimes, but not when it counted. Usually.

 

She carried on, highlighting one of the sections of wall that still stood. “Glass blew out, and far - right out into the street, even. Not just cracked and shattered from the heat.”

 

“Thought it looked like an explosion before the fire, yeah,” I muttered, half to myself and half to her. No reason we couldn’t each benefit from the other’s investigation. As long as we were chatting, anyway. Suppose there weren’t many cops and ex-cops who met up in crime scenes just to chat about the weather or sports.

 

“Pretty sure it looks like standard gasoline was used to torch the place afterward, though,” I mused. Gas had a look to it in the aftermath: burned faster and hotter, left a different sort of pattern behind. This place looked a lot like the old police station had after the big fire. A lot more rubble, but definitely a gasoline fire, just like back then.

 

I tried to put it out of my mind. This was a completely different case - for one, I was investigating this one, not getting fired in the aftermath of it. 

 

...at least, for the time being. Suppose Miss Vaswani could still withdraw her employ and then I’d be out again, haggling with the landlord for another extension.

 

Tried to put that out of my mind too.

 

We looked the place over for a while. Eventually split up - it had been a big building, back when it had still been standing. I was on the opposite side of a room - former room, really - from Lena when I saw something on the ground. 

 

I leaned down and picked it up. Looking at it up close, was immediately clear that it was the  magazine of a gun of some sort. Some sort of rifle, most likely. Didn’t have any idea what sort of rifle, though. Something big, either way. Looking around, I didn’t see any bullet shells. Strange. I’d run across a few caseless weapons in my time, but they were all smaller things - submachine guns and machine pistols, but this was from something bigger than that. Something heavy. Couldn’t say I’d seen something that large that didn’t have shells, though. I stuck the magazine in my back pocket, and turned to walk back to Lena.

 

That’s when she let out a gasp. “Hey, Jesse! Think I found something!” She pointed at the ground, and as I walked over, I saw that the ground in that area was a bit darker than the rest.

 

Lena bent over, looking at that patch of the floor. “You think that’s blood?”

 

Looking down at it myself, I could tell in an instant.

 

“That’s certainly some burnt blood.” Badly burnt - definitely from before the building was torched. Might not be from long before, though. Hard to tell.

 

A mag out of some kind of high-tech weapon, maybe experimental, and now blood that had been spilled before the place was taken down. I’d be damned if it didn’t seem like Miss Vaswani had turned out to be right after all. Irritating as that might’ve been.

 

Only question now was whose blood it was, whose discarded rifle magazine, and why this had all gone down here of all places. Lots of shady deals made behind closed doors like these, could’ve been drugs but I hadn’t seen a trace of ‘em. Could’ve been weapons, but except for that mag, same went there.

 

We looked around for a while longer, til it got dark. In the end, there wasn’t hardly anything left to find in the torched warehouse. Eventually, Lena and I gave up looking - for the night, anyway. I wasn’t giving up on this case yet. Paid too damn well, for one.

 

Lena told me she’d keep asking around the force, and let me know if she found anything regarding that rifle magazine by noon tomorrow. We traded numbers, and I told her I’d call and check in tomorrow morning.

 

Then, after we parted ways, as I walked back to my car, I noticed something I hadn’t before. It was a yellow canister of some sort, discarded by the side of the road.

 

On a hunch, I picked it up, looked it over. There wasn’t much to say about it - it was yellow, empty, and oddly shaped. Like one of those cone-shaped beakers the scientists on TV shows had, but shorter, stouter, and metal. Looked like it was supposed attach to something on the open end.

 

I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. It was probably nothing, but experience had taught me better than to rule anything out entirely. I tossed the thing in the backseat of my car, decided to worry about it later, and drove back to the office.

 

The fun part of the investigating was done, the part where you get out of the office and get to wander around. Now it was time for the boring stuff.

 

...at least when I was in the office, though, I could have a glass of whiskey.

 

So it wasn’t all bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! So, things moving along a bit - I'm sure you can start forming some guesses about who may have been involved in this. After all, what's an investigation for, if not to have the readers investigating as well, eh? Hope this is piquing your interest a little bit!
> 
> Nice to get Lena on-screen, and you can expect other characters to make their own appearances as well. There are plans for much of the cast to show up, in varying roles and to varying extents, so that's something to look forward to - and, as you might've started to expect, this goes a fair bit further than just some warehouse that got burned down. It's always the ones that look easy that end up being the hardest, eh?
> 
> Anyway, hope you liked it! As always, we'd love to hear back from you - shoot us a comment below, even if it's just something simple, and you'll really make our days! :D
> 
> Come on back next time when Satya has some time to do a little bit of investigating of her own, and she hardly spends any of that time thinking about her annoying new acquaintance Jesse McCree. _Hardly_ any.  
>  ~Jrade

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment! We'd love to hear your feedback!


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